


Dead Man's Bones

by hinatagirl2808



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Catholicism, Haunting, M/M, Minor Character Death, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Supernatural Elements, a fic set in the nineties written by a person who was 5 when the nineties ended, inspired by a bunch of movies and an album, so good luck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 08:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17199749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hinatagirl2808/pseuds/hinatagirl2808
Summary: It was just a stupid game. Nothing was supposed to happen.





	Dead Man's Bones

Stifling air seemingly stuck to every fiber and molecule of Ryan’s being, cozying up and drowning him in a hot wetness that he had yet to get used to. Sweat droplets dripped down his back; at least what little back his shirt had not yet clung to. If he had to describe the consistency of the air, he would liken it to that of pea soup; warm, thick, and slightly sticky. He brushed a bit of hair behind his ear, having grown it out during the summer, just past his jaw. It seemed like a good idea at the time, however the dry, Nevada heat had nothing on the late summer weather of Georgia, humidity at an all-time high. He wore a pair of dark, baggy jeans, and a black shirt with Robert Smith on it. Ultimately, it was his fault that he was melting.

Ryan swallowed thickly and glanced at his new, digital wrist watch, an early birthday present from his dad. His clock still read Nevada time; he hadn’t bothered to change it yet. However, after having taken this trip so many times before, Ryan easily added up the hours in his head to get the time in Georgia. It was around 11:30 in the afternoon. Ryan was jetlagged to hell, sweaty, and he just wanted to crawl into Rachel’s, Spencer’s aunt’s, car and enjoy the only air-conditioning he would get for four months for the two hours it would take to get to their school, just outside the surprisingly modern town of Red Creek. He’d only been waiting ten minutes, but unfortunately, he would probably be waiting longer. Rachel was notorious for being late to just about everything. Ryan didn’t mind too much, knowing that it was very likely they would stop for McDonald’s on the way. Ryan licked his chapped lips, a tug at the corner of his mouth, in anticipation of his vanilla milkshake and fries. 

Around 11:45, Rachel’s beige station wagon rolled up to the pick-up area of the airport, fifteen minutes after she said she would be there, but fifteen minutes before Ryan expected her to arrive. 

“Ryan, sweetheart, I am so sorry for being late.” Rachel said as she opened her door and rounded the front of the car towards Ryan. Ryan raised his hand and was about to tell her it wasn’t a problem, but he suddenly found himself enveloped in the soft, yet firm embrace of his friend’s aunt. It was comforting in a way that Ryan wasn’t used to. The most affection he usually got was pats on the back, maybe the ruffling of hair. His dad was awkward, and so was Ryan. Not Rachel, though. She had made it her mission to give everyone as much affection as possible, including Ryan. It just surprised Ryan that she still had so much affection to give him. Still, it felt good to be hugged by Rachel and so he embraced her back, bony arms giving their own firm hug. 

“It’s all good, Mrs. Jones.” Ryan said once he was released from the hug. 

Rachel huffed, shaking her head. 

“Now sweetheart, I tell you this every year, just call me Rachel. You’re practically my own nephew by now, what with all the Thanksgivings you’ve spent with us. Now go on Spencer, help Ryan with his bags. If we want to get to the school before the rush, we best hurry.”

Ryan smiled as he saw Spencer, half hanging out of the car, trying hes best to avoid so much of the heat and humidity. Finally, though, he pulled himself fully out of the car and took a step towards Ryan. Ryan greeted Spencer by clapping his hand to Spencer’s and tugging him forward. Spencer clapped Ryan’s back and then took a step back and scanned Ryan, from his head to his shoes, but noticeably lingered on the hair. 

“You let it grow out.”

Ryan tucked another strand behind his ear.

“And you straightened it.”

“Yeah. You know, going for the whole Kurt look.”

Spencer smirked. 

“You look like a dork.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and hit Spencer’s shoulder, no more than a friendly, light punch. Hair styled and brushed to the side, Spencer wasn’t allowed to grow his hair out like that, his mother’s orders, and what his mother said, his father enforced. He could call Ryan a dork.

Spencer laughed and then helped Ryan put his suitcase and guitar case into the back of the car. Most of their things had already been shipped to the school prior to their arrival, Spencer himself only having a suitcase and small box. Ryan’s backpack, however, he kept with himself, sitting it on his lap as he climbed into the backseat with Spencer. Spencer’s aunt always said he could put in on the floorboard, swore it was clean, but Ryan always kept his bag with him. He liked to make sure it was secure. Having his bag on his lap made him feel secure.

As they exited the airport, Rachel looked back at the boys through the rear-view mirror. 

“I can’t even believe it Ryan, you’re even more of a string bean now than you were last spring. I know boys grow, but you just keep going. And your hair! I loved your short hair, nice a curly, it made you look so handsome. I hope you aren’t turning into one of those hooligans that run through Atlanta now. Long hair, baggy clothes, just unbecoming. Your father is okay with this?”

Ryan shrugged. 

“I don’t think he really cares. I stay out of trouble. That’s what he cares about.”

Rachel gave a sigh and one last worried look before focusing on traffic. Spencer covered a smile and swallowed a giggle. Ryan smirked and gave Spencer’s shoulder a light shove. 

-

They stopped at a McDonald’s before leaving Savannah, Rachel allowing the boys to sit at a table by themselves. As Ryan was just digging in to his milkshake and fries. After Spencer had taken a bite of his cheese burger (extra pickles, no onion), he spoke up. 

“I heard Brent’s not coming back.”

Ryan nodded his head in affirmation, dipping his second fry into his milkshake and letting the cream drip onto his tongue before swallowing the whole thing. 

“Sucks man. You know who your new roommate is gonna be?”

Ryan shook his head and stole a sip of Spencer’s coke, but then pulled a face when he tasted it. Diet. Spencer snickered at Ryan’s distaste and stole the soda back, taking another bite of his burger after taking a sip of his drink. 

“Hope he doesn’t suck.”

Spencer stole a fry from Ryan and smirked. Ryan hoped his new roommate didn’t suck either. 

Brent had sent Ryan a letter during the summer telling him that he would be moving and that his parents had found a new school for him closer to their new home. For Ryan, getting that letter had really sucked. Brent was a chill dude and they had known each other since Ryan had started going to the school, had become roommates the next year. Brent was easygoing and quiet when Ryan needed him to be and was actually a great study partner for the classes they shared. This plus the fact that Ryan would be assigned a new roommate without his input made the situation doubly sucky. Ryan dreaded the thought of getting stuck with someone he didn’t know. Still, Ryan was also glad Brent had given him the heads up. If he hadn’t, then Brent would have sucked too. 

Soon they were hurried along back to the car for the long drive to the school. Ryan had been going there since he was twelve, had met Spencer his second year when Spencer had arrived as a second year. Ryan had already been friends with Brent and then when Ryan had entered the high school portion of the school, he met Jon, a boy a grade above them. He was cool because he was older and liked to break the rules. And there were other students, too, who sometimes intermingled with the group, like William “William, Bill, but never Will” Beckett and his little follower Adam “Sisky” Siska, but for the most part, it had just been the four of them.

Then it was only the three of them. 

They arrived around 3:30 in the afternoon, along with dozens of other students. Ryan liked the long driveway up to the school. A nice paved road up a hill, lined by trees and Spanish moss. Well, the Spanish Moss kind of creeped him out, but still, the drive was nice. Fitting the car into the long drive in front of the school was a difficult feat, as dozens of other parents had also parked their cars along the front, but it was one Rachel seemed to manage with ease. The boys grabbed their bags and boxes and headed inside with Rachel to check in. It was crowded in the front entrance of the school, a little desk set up with a woman, someone from the Student Affairs office, checking the students in from a stack of papers, each boys name and year written down. That and large stacks of folders sitting neatly on the ground by her feet, holding the Welcome Week’s activity list as well as a handy planner for each student who checks in. There was a banner hanging above the table, homemade, black and blue with an alligator painted in the middle, an obvious creation of the student council who had arrived at the school a week ahead of everyone else. 

They were shuffled into line and then shuffled off to their dorms, Rachel hugging them goodbye, twice, and saying how she couldn’t wait to have both of them in her home on Thanksgiving. Ryan and Spencer both made their way to the dorms behind the school, dragging suitcases behind them on the cobbled path (“I get that it looks cool, but c’mon, the wheels on my suitcase don’t really appreciate it” Spencer complained) and somehow managing not to spill their extra cargo, Ryan straining his muscles as he held his guitar high enough not to drag it on the ground, and Spencer somehow managing to carry the medium sized box with one arm.

Ryan managed to swing open the front door to the Emerson dorm. The other dorm to the left, Sullivan, was for lower classmen, grades seven to nine. Emerson housed the upper classmen, grades ten to twelve. Both dorms were named after the families of students who had once gone to the school and later donated hefty enough sums that made the school name a dorm building after them. 

Not many boys were milling about. Most were probably in other parts of campus or, more likely, still in the nearby town with their parents before they leave their children here for good (or at least until Thanksgiving). 

The entryway lead into a hallway with bedrooms on both sides. Walls were carved out of wood paneling, not too extravagant, but nice enough to show that this was a classy institute for classy boys. The rooms were much less classy, and Ryan often likened them to the rooms in insane asylums; stark white walls with piping coming out of the walls towards the high ceilings. Wooden floors that managed to give Ryan splinters at least once a semester. Big heavy doors that were, for some reason, painted a deep, dark green and honestly just looked out of place. Quite bare and lacking a personality other than “vaguely unsettling.” Ryan and Spencer even had to bring their own lamps; the rooms weren’t equipped with any light source at all. 

“At least we’re not on the ground floor this year.” Ryan said as he started up the, steep, narrow wooden staircase at the end of the hall, carefully maneuvering his guitar case so as not to bang it into the walls or corners. Sure, it was a hard case, but his baby was delicate. He wasn’t about to go making any holes that his guitar didn’t need. 

“Sure, if you don’t mind trekking up a flight of stairs to reach the second floor every day.” Spencer huffed. Ryan smirked as the box was starting to cause some difficulty in maneuvering. In all honesty, they could have taken the large service elevator that the movers used when moving in large boxes or other things, but both Spencer and Ryan agreed, that elevator was way too creepy. It moved too slow, looked dirty, and had a weird smell in it, like it had never been aired out. If given the choice, they’ll choose the narrow staircase any day. 

Finally, they made it to their floor, the one that housed all seventy or so odd Juniors. Each floor of the dorms could hold about seventy students, though 60 was the average class size. Spencer and Ryan looked down the long hallway. There were more boys in their hall, unpacking their things and catching up with old friends; talking about their summers and their plans for the school year. Ryan looked at Spencer.

“Which room were you assigned this year?”

Spencer held up a finger, then set his box down on the floor before taking off his backpack and swinging it around. He unzipped it and then began digging into the bag. Within seconds he pulled out his folder he got at the Welcome Desk and perused through it before coming to the page he needed. 

“I got 206.”

Ryan sighed.

“Damn, I got 234. I’ll be on the other fucking side.”

“Sucks to suck.”

“Oh whatever.”

Ryan began making his way to the other side of the dorm as Spencer quickly found his own room and was about to open the door.

“Hey, see you at Jon’s room in an hour?” Spencer called before Ryan got too far away. Ryan turned back and gave a thumbs up before setting off once again towards the other end of the hall. 

When Brent had told Ryan he wouldn’t be coming back, Ryan had considered asking Spencer if he wanted to room with him, but thought better of it. His and Spencer’s personalities would have clashed so hard if they were roommates. Ryan was kind of a slob and didn’t worry too much about room inspection. Spencer was a bit of a neat freak and would not have permitted Ryan’s natural messiness. Spencer also liked to go to sleep at a normal hour and wake up at a normal hour. Ryan was kind of a night owl, but also an early riser. He usually got only five or six hours of sleep a night, though it wasn’t totally up to him. He couldn’t help how he slept. But Spencer was a light sleeper, and probably would have killed Ryan if Ryan woke him up too many times. Brian, Spencer’s current roommate, was perfect for Spencer. Ryan wasn’t about to break up a good roommate pair.

Ryan made his way down the hall, cramped by boxes and people. Even with his guitar case and suitcase, he maneuvered well enough through the bodies and boxes, saying ‘hi’ every so often to a familiar face. His room was at the end of the hall, right next to a big window that would let you look out into the garden next to the dorms. He glanced out and saw some boys and their parents out there, sitting on the benches next to the fountain, or walking around the flowers and bushes. Ryan liked the garden, liked the little old black man, Mr. Thomas, who took care of it. Kids liked to joke that Mr. Thomas had been at the school for as long as the school had been here. Ryan liked to talk to Mr. Thomas; the old man let him ramble as much as he wanted to. Ryan also liked to hear Mr. Thomas’ stories. The man had a million of them because, while he wasn’t as old as the school, he was pretty old. In Ryan’s eyes, Mr. Thomas had seen everything. 

Ryan turned towards his room and opened the door. He was happy to find it devoid of any persons, just boxes on the beds and the floor, names written on them so that the first roommate to arrive would know which boxes were his and which weren’t. The room was average; two beds, two desks at the ends of the beds. There was a window on the opposite wall, between the beds, and a little desk where someone could put a lamp. Once Ryan had entered, he sent his things down, shrugging off his backpack and gently laying his guitar case on the floor. He found his boxes were put on the left side of the room, and so Ryan claimed that side for his own. He shoved a few of his boxes over, making enough room on his bed to place his suitcase and to start sorting through his clothes. 

Each room had two closets on the same side of the room as the door that led into the hallway. Ryan first took out all his clothes hangers from his suitcase and then started putting clothes on hangers, doing that back and forth dance between his bed and his closet to hang all his clothes. He was done within ten minutes. He neatly placed his suitcase in the corner of his closet, right next to all three pairs of shoes he had. Now was time to do the unboxing. The first box he opened was, of course, the one that had “Open First” scrawled onto it in sharpie. Ryan ripped off the tape and opened the box, spying the prize that had made him write open first onto this box. His red radio, not cordless, but still cool, was sitting write on top of everything else. He pulled it and quickly sat it on his desk before squatting down to plug the little radio into the wall. As the little box buzzed to life, spitting static sound, Ryan turned the knob to a radio station he had begun to thoroughly enjoy last year when he had first gotten the radio. Finally, he heard music and news filter through and soon enough he was on his favorite local station (also the only one he listened to there.) Music poured through and the song that was playing had already become one of Ryan’s favorites over the summer.

“…not looking for absolution, forgiveness for the things I do...”

Ryan hummed along as he turned the sound on the radio up and walked back towards his bed, taking the next item out of his box, a plastic bag of bedding. He started shifting the boxes and lifting them all off the mattress, so he could make it; probably the one time before Thanksgiving that his bed would be fitted with clean sheets.

He had a foam mattress pad, as the mattresses at the school were thin and the feeling of laying on them was akin to the feeling of laying on the wood floor; stiff and just plain uncomfortable. His sheets were plain and white, and Ryan was fine with that. They were bed sheets, what did it matter what color they were? His comforter was a dark blue, and thick. Though it would spend much of its time until November folded up at the end of his bed, he looked forward to the days when he would be able to bury himself into it, blocking out the rest of the world. Ryan is only slightly embarrassed by the fact that he has four pillows. He’s tried sleeping with just two, but he’s found it an impossibility, and sleeping with an odd number of pillows is, well, it’s just odd. Four has been his magic number since he was nine years old, and he’ll be damned if he lets embarrassment sacrifice him his comfort, especially when he’s sleeping. 

As he smoothed out his sheets, comforter folded neatly at the end of the bed, Ryan hummed along to the current song playing on his radio as he hefted up his next box, one with his lamp and a couple of his favorite books, ones he knew he wouldn’t find in their school library. Sure, the school was a little more liberal than a lot of the religious schools in the area, but even St. Anthony’s has standards. He pulls out well-worn copies of Naked Lunch, On the Road, Go Ask Alice, Brave New World, and a couple of others. Arms full, he heads towards his closet, opens the door, and stashes his book in a dark corner where most people wouldn’t think to look. Ryan wasn’t about to have his favorite books confiscated during a surprise room check. Who knows if he would ever actually get them back. 

He closes his closet door and walks back towards his bed, humming along to radio. He takes his lamp and puts it on the desk between the beds, plugging it in and turning the switch to make sure the bulb was still functioning. Satisfied, he turned it off and turned back to his bed. The first box now empty, he takes the rest of the tape off, flattens the box, and stores it under the bed, ready to take it to the basement tomorrow to recycle it. He picked up another box off the floor, this one lighter than his book and lamp filled box. Ripping off the tape, Ryan notes that he packed this box with more miscellaneous things, like pencils and, a few personal notebooks, an old coffee mug, and a stack of polaroid pictures along with his ugly, yellow polaroid camera; last year’s early birthday gift before going to school. He pulls out his camera first, setting it on his desk. Then his pictures and his mug. The Smiths are playing, and Ryan sings along, as he starts gathering his pens and pencils from the bottom of the box.

“…exactly do you mean? See I’ve already waited too long and all my hope is gone…”

His door was opened at that moment and Ryan was startled out of his duet with Morrissey. Three people, a man, a woman, and a boy who Ryan is going to guess is their son, are standing in his door, staring back at him as Morrissey’s voice fades out and the radio announcer begins to speak. Ryan glances at his radio, then back at the family and then reaches for his radio and turns it off. He the turns and faces the family, the air electric with an awkward hum. 

So, this was his new roommate. Ryan took a moment to look at the other boy. He had short dark hair that looked like it had been just cut; it was still at that awkward, freshly cut look that most fresh haircuts were before they’d grown out a little. He had a large nose and thick lips that he hadn’t quite grown into, which made sense looking at the woman beside him. She definitely wasn’t white, but Ryan wasn’t sure what she was. The man on the boys’ other side was unremarkable looking, graying, dark hair styled conservatively, dress pants and a white button up with the top button undone. He was holding his jacket, folded, by his side. He was broad, but not fat. His face was blank, brown eyes, staring down the whole room with mild disinterest.

The boy was wearing a white, short sleeve button-up and a pair of khaki pants along with a pair of brown dress shoes. He had on a pair of dark, thick rimmed glasses and behind them were dark eyes, matching the woman’s own. The first thing Ryan noted to himself was that the boy looked soft and compact, a contrast to Ryan’s own gangly, awkwardly skinny body. 

The woman was the first to break the silence, which Ryan was thankful for. He certainly wasn’t going to be the one to break it. She steps forward and reaches out her hand, an enthusiastic and hopeful smile on her tanned face. Ryan shook her hand, her grip firm and confident. She herself was wearing a pair of dark pants and white button up, tucked in, a pair of dark, kitten heeled boots on her feet. Her hair was cut short, but it fit her. 

“Hello! It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Grace Urie and this is my husband, Boyd. And this is our son, Brendon.”

She finishes by pushing her son, Brendon, forwards. Brendon himself, looked back at his mom, before quickly whipping his head forward, facing Ryan. His arm shot out, obviously to shake Ryan’s hand. Brendon’s handshake is less sure, with a weak grip. His palms are sweaty. Ryan would have guessed it was because Brendon was nervous, but it was also likely that the heat got to him outside. 

“It’s really nice to meet you!”

Brendon basically shouted this at Ryan and then looked embarrassed about shouting at Ryan. Ryan felt bad for the kid. If Ryan felt awkward, he could only imagine how awkward Brendon was feeling. 

“It’s, uh, it’s nice to meet you too, Brendon.” Ryan said, voice steady. He looked back towards the beds. “I hope you don’t mind; I just took the bed that my stuff was on.”

Brendon shook his head, animatedly. Anxious energy buzzed through Brendon and it was like every little movement released more of it into the room.

“Not a problem, I’m fine with either bed, you know? I mean, it’s not even like there’s much of a difference really, cause the window is right between us and the sides are pretty identical, like it’s just the right side or the left side and I guess that would matter if I liked sleeping on a certain side, but also liked facing the wall, but it’s okay, because I don’t, so everything-“

“Brendon.”

Brendon’s mother had touched his shoulder, and said his name quietly, not meanly, but more like a way to make him aware of how much he was talking. His father looked mildly annoyed, ready to go, but didn’t say anything.

Brendon was, again, back to looking embarrassed and like he was still silently buzzing with nervous energy. Ryan decided it had become uncomfortable enough that it was time for him to go. 

“Hey, I’m just going to, uh, go find some of my friends. I’ll get you for dinner Brendon, okay? Show you the way around the place and everything.”

Ryan ducked out before another word could be said. Now he was buzzing with nervous, awkward energy. He headed towards the side staircase right beside his room, heading up the stairs towards the senior floor. There’s a few people around, but Ryan didn’t really pay attention as he ducked down a side hall, better known as Senior Wing. It was a side hall that had rooms for those special seniors who managed to have the best room scores from all the previous years. They were rewarded with single rooms instead of being forced to share a room. Ryan wasn’t sure how it happened, but Jon had managed to get a perfect score during every room check. He checks the name tags on the doors, graciously put up by student council members, and finds Jon’s room near the end of the hall. He knocks on the door as a warning and then enters, turning the knob and opening into a room that looked like it’d been hit by a tornado, with a newly buzzed-cut Jon in the middle of the mess, sifting his things out of his boxes, his suitcase seeming have exploded all over his bed. Jon has head turned towards the door and smiles as he sees Ryan. 

“I wondered where all my hair went. Nice to see it has a good home.”

Ryan gave him the middle finger and then shut the door behind him, standing in the only clean space of floor in the whole room. 

“Dude...your room is a fucking mess.”

Jon got off the floor, looking around his room, seemingly cataloguing each scattered poster, carelessly tossed book, the nest of clothes on his bed, and his assortment of school notebooks, text books, pencils, and pens that have fallen in various places around the room. 

“Dude…I know.”

Jon laughed, shaking his head. Ryan did the same; Jon’s room was like this at the beginning of every semester, when he first moved back in. Ryan and Spencer had theorized that Jon is the type of person who can only create order out of chaos; thus his room. Jon turned to his bed, pushing his clothes back and clearing a spot for Ryan to sit on. Well, at least the bed was made. Ryan carefully walked through his room, hopping at points so as not to step on anything. Jon took a seat on his desk, feet in his desk chair. He turned and began to fiddle with the radio that sat on his desk. Almost all the rooms had at least one radio brought by a student; it was maddening to live in the silence. Jon fiddled with the dial and Ryan knew he was going to be disappointed with the station, the slight annoyance already settling within him. Jon made a happy sound as he settled on what Ryan knew was his favorite local station. 

“…through life with my glasses blurred. It’s like that, and that’s the way it is…”

Jon nodded his head along to the rhythm as Ryan rolled his eyes. 

“Jon Walker, you convince me more and more that your mother stole you out of a stroller from Compton.”

Jon laughed and shook his head. 

“It’s a unifying genre, Ross. Hip-hop is the future; everyone can and will enjoy it, just you wait. Plus, it’s my room. I get to play my tunes.”

“The fact that you just said ‘tunes’ should automatically revoke your…hip-hop card, or whatever.”

Jon laughed and shook his head, and Ryan laughed along with him. He was so glad to be back.

-

“So, Brent ditched and now you have a new roomie?” Jon said, packing a bowl next to his open window. Ryan thinks it’s a little early (and a little too light out) to be toking up, but Jon does as Jon does. Besides, Ryan knew he would still have more tomorrow to share, as friends do.

“Yeah.” Ryan answered, picking at a piece of skin around his fingernail. He knew if he kept picking at it, it was going to bleed, probably sting. He picked at it anyway. “He seems…kind of wired. Nervous wired. And his parents were...nice I guess, but kind of weird too. And dorky. He looked like he was going to youth group or something.”

Ryan tears the bit of skin and squints. It did sting and it was bleeding. He sucked on it before regaling Jon more about his new roommate. 

“His mom was nice, but it was like she was desperate to seem as inviting as possible. His dad was quiet, he didn’t say anything, just kind of looked like he didn’t want to be there.”

Jon nodded, taking a hit and holding it in for about ten seconds before blowing the smoke out the window. Ryan was jealous of Jon’s smoking capabilities. He always choked when he smoked. Jon didn’t even cough. 

“Oh, and his mom, she’s not white. She kind of looks kind of Asian.”

Jon hummed as he took another hit. 

“Never had an Asian kid before. Could be interesting.”

Ryan nodded. They had only ever had one black kid, and he had graduated years ago. Him, along with a few Hispanic kids scattered in and that was about as diverse as their school got. 

They stayed quiet for a few minutes, Jon smoking and Ryan sitting in not-so-deep contemplation. A knock at the door woke them from their personal stupors. Jon got ready to quickly stash his bowl below the outside window sill, just in case. 

“It’s Spencer.” the disembodied voice called from the other side of the door. Jon sighed in relief and Ryan told Spencer to come on in. Spencer entered the bedroom and quickly closed the door. 

“Dude, seriously? It isn’t even five, couldn’t you have waited until after dinner?”

Jon smirked, lighting up his bowl once more. Ryan scooted over on the bed, making room for Spencer. 

“Ryan has just been telling me the fascinating tale of his new, nerdy, and exotic roommate.”

“Oh yeah?” Spencer said, quirking an eyebrow. “So, what’s he like?”

Ryan tells Spencer the same thing he told Jon, about Brendon and about his parents. Spencer nods and looks like he’s contemplating what Ryan is telling him, which is what he often does. 

“So, do you think he’s okay to hang?” Spencer asked after a moment. Ryan looked forward and then leaned back on his hands. 

“I don’t know. Probably. He’s probably better when his parents aren’t around. He’s not a dick or anything. I think he’s just, like, shy. He’s probably cool.”

Spencer smiled and nodded. “Cool” he said and scooted back more on to the bed, leaning against the wall. 

For the next hour, all the boys talk about their summers. Jon stayed in Chicago and mostly hung out with his girlfriend, Cassie. He regaled sexy tales of alone time in his apartment, while his mother was at work. Of course, sexy times quickly turned to sweaty times when the air-conditioner gave up the ghost halfway through July.

“It wasn’t the heat, it was the humidity.” Jon insisted. Then it was laying in bed in their underwear with the fan trained on them, doing their best not to touch each other.

Spencer cracked a joke about Jon being careful – he wouldn’t want tiny Walkers running around before he finished high school. Ryan stifled a laugh, just imagining Jon trying to take care of a living, breathing human. 

“No way, man.” Jon said, taking a hit. “She’s on The Pill. No baby Walkers yet.”

Ryan was amazed they were still together, three years strong even though for most of the year they were apart. They did write letters to each other though, Cassie insisted. It wasn’t a secret that Jon loved getting letters, presents, whatever, from his girlfriend. Any day he got something from Cassie, he’d be on cloud nine and absolutely nothing could bring him down. 

Spencer had spent most of the summer with his cousins in the Outer Banks, working at his uncle’s restaurant. While being a waiter had sucked, he loved being able to go the beach every day and living like a local. His favorite place to hang was this bookstore, with books stacked floor to ceiling. After a day of work, he and his cousins would head out onto the beach for the afternoon and mess around in the waves or go on the sound side to get away from the tourists and just relax. At night they would go to this ice cream parlor to get a cone and then go to the pier to watch and talk to the fisherman. Spencer swears up and down that he saw guys catch sharks, though not like big sharks, just these small ones. He also told Ryan and Jon about his summer fling as well, with a local girl he met at the bookstore. Though he would not name names, he did say, “Sex on the beach sucks. Sand gets fucking everywhere.” The guys howled with laughter and congratulated Spencer on a summer well spent. 

Ryan, himself, spent his summer in Nevada, hanging out with his dad. They had managed to fix up a semi-old, not quite junker during June and Ryan was gifted the car once it had been okayed by a mechanic and had passed his father’s own, personal safety inspection. Ryan would drive out into the desert at night when his dad went to work. He would write or smoke or just look at the stars. 

“Take any girls out there? Heard it gets cold in the desert at night. Maybe some cuddling, some, you know…” Jon waggled his eyebrows and Spencer smirked. Ryan shook his head and laughed.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Ryan giggled some more at Jon’s ridiculousness. 

Jon sighed, leaning back against the wall, still sitting on his desk. 

“Dude, I’m waiting for you to turn into the heartbreaker that I know you are. I need to listen to stories of the woes of the heartbroken girls dismissed by the dashing Ryan Ross.” Jon said, dramatically clutching his chest like he himself was a fair maiden who had fallen for Ryan. 

“I’m just waiting for the alumni to spring for air-conditioning. I’m sick of fountains and additions to the library.” Spencer half-heartedly lamented from his place on the bed. 

This started another laughing fit from Ryan and Jon, the abruptness of Spencer’s statement catching them off-guard. Spencer soon joined them, the laughter infectious between the close friends. Soon they quieted down, wheezing and catching their breaths. Ryan rubbed circles into his left hand. 

“You know, actually, um, two weeks ago, dad hit his six-month mark.”

The boys went quiet. They understood the seriousness of what Ryan had just told them. 

Both Jon and Spencer had been there when Ryan had been pulled out for two weeks last January when his father had ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. The alcohol poisoning had led to the doctors finding out that Mr. Ross’ liver was in bad shape. Those two weeks was Ryan being petrified that his father was going to die. Ryan had practically lived at the hospital for the first few days, barely leaving his father’s bedside. His mother had flown in from Tampa on the fourth day and had forced Ryan to go back home so he could get a shower and some decent sleep. Then his hospital visits had been highly regulated. In those two weeks he and his mother spoke maybe ten words to each other. She was just there to make sure he didn’t become a semi-permanent fixture at the hospital. And just in case. Just in case Mr. Ross became fully handicapped. Just in case they needed to put Mr. Ross on the transplant list. Just in case he didn’t make it. She had a whole other family in Tampa, but she was there with him, just in case. Her cooking still sucked.

Once his father had cleared the danger zone, though, his mother had left, and his father had sent Ryan straight back to school. For a month straight Ryan had walked around like a zombie, consumed with worry that he was going to get pulled out of class again, pulled into the head master’s office to be given much more devastating and final news. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, just couldn’t function. Two of the school nurses would let him skip class and hang around their office. They helped distract him. Without Jon, Spencer, or Brent, he didn’t know if he could have made it through. Spencer helped him with his work (sometimes did his work), Jon made sure Ryan ate (thanks to sweet, understanding Mary Jane), and Brent wouldn’t go to sleep until he was sure Ryan had fallen asleep. They all knew the weight of his father’s sobriety. It was hope that Ryan desperately needed. 

His father was trying and all throughout the summer he had done so well. The first two weeks back home, Ryan’s dad swore up and down that the hospital visit had been a wakeup call. The doctors obviously couldn’t fix the damage he had already done to his liver, but he didn’t need to destroy it further. He quit drinking cold turkey after detoxing in the hospital. He threw out any alcohol he found, had searched in every nook and cranny. He told all his friends to make sure he didn’t drink. He told his friends wives to also make sure he didn’t drink. He went to AA once a week. Ryan was even surprised that his father had totally changed his diet, eating foods he claimed were great for liver health. He started going to the gym twice a week. He also started doing things with Ryan. Sundays and Thursdays Mr. Ross didn’t work, so those were their own Father-Son days. Mr. Ross always had something planned. A lot of those days were spent fixing Ryan’s junker. A half dozen or so of them were movie days where he and his dad would go see the latest summer blockbuster. And many, many days were them getting up at the crack of dawn and travelling all over Nevada seeing “The Natural Beauty and Wonder of The State”. They visited numerous canyons, camped at Lake Tahoe, and hiked in Great Basin National Park. They saw the capital, went to a historical lodge, and even went to the Hoover Dam. Ryan was sure they had seen everything they actually could in Nevada that summer. It had been his best summer ever. 

“Dude, that’s really great.” Jon said, grinning wide, ear to ear. Spencer nodded, rubbing Ryan’s shoulder in congratulations. Ryan nodded and smiled too. The summer had been amazing. It was being away from his father that he was worried about. He knew about relapse rates, the doctors had told him, and they didn’t sugarcoat it. He didn’t want his father to be another statistic. 

Ryan pushed the worry back, though. Right now, he would feel proud and happy.

Ryan glanced down at his wrist watch and figured out that it was 5:45. Dinner had started fifteen minutes ago.

“Dudes, it’s dinner time. We better go, or else all the good stuff is going to be gone.”

Ryan and Spencer hop off the bed and Jon empties the remnants of his pot into a small baggie, which he would, discreetly, get rid of later. They left the room, Jon twisting the switch on his lamp to turn the light off and headed down the hall to the staircase. They tumbled down the stairs, talking about what they would be gorging themselves on at dinner. It was only at the bottom step the Ryan suddenly realized he had forgotten all about Brendon. 

“Shit.” He muttered to himself and turned around to run back up the stairs. “I told Brendon I’d grab him for dinner. Go on, I’ll meet you at the dining hall.” He didn’t wait for a response as he launched himself up the stairs, taking two steps at a time up the steep steps. Once he had reached the top of the stairs he ran down the hall, past a couple of stragglers, to his own room. He didn’t bother knocking, instead, throwing the door open. 

His lamp was on and Brendon was on his own bed, decked out in his dress pants and blazer, their school uniform. He was rubbing his eyes, and even in the dim light, Ryan could see what was going on. He wasn’t stupid. 

Ryan shut the door behind him, taking half a step into the room. He doesn’t look at Brendon, instead opting for the floor under his own bed, seeing the boxes still unopened or half-filled with junk of his. He really needs to finish unpacking. 

“You, um, you don’t have to wear the uniform when it’s not class time. Just, like, regular clothes will, um, do.”

He can see Brendon shift on the bed from the corner of his eye. He glances over only to be met with Brendon’s eyes. Ryan quickly averts his gaze, back to his boxes. He lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. He was never good at comforting people. Too socially awkward. 

“I get it, you know? It really sucks, like uh, the first night you’re here. Cause, you don’t know anybody. Especially since you’re, like, kind of a late comer. But, like, it’s all cool, you know? Cause the guys here, they’re all pretty chill. And like, you can hang with me and my friends. We’re all pretty chill.”

There was a beat of silence and Ryan congratulated himself for not stuttering. 

“It’s dinner time. You should get changed. I’ll wait outside.”

Ryan beat a hasty retreat out the door and managed not to slam it while closing it. He hated talking with strangers. Not that Brendon seemed bad or anything. He just hated talking to people he didn’t know. He was also really bad at comforting others, even friends. He was great with writing, all his teachers said so, but he was just no good at speaking out loud. Ryan once again pondered the idea of becoming a mute. It seems like a good life. A nice lack of oral communication. 

He saw the door knob turn and heard the squeak of the hinges. Brendon came out, wearing a pair of cargo pants and a white polo shirt. Still dorky, but definitely not as dorky as he looked this afternoon. At least now he didn’t look like he was going to church. 

“Come on, let’s go.” Ryan says, walking down the hall. It’s empty now, all the other boys most likely in the dining hall. Brendon was just a step behind him, quiet. The silence made Ryan feel awkward. He wouldn’t say it was an awkward silence, but Ryan was definitely not comfortable. 

“The food’s like, really good tonight.” Ryan said as they reached the top of the staircase down the hall. He was trying to fill a quiet he had decided he did not like. “It’s cause it’s the Welcome Night, so it’s a special dinner. We’ll have another one near Thanksgiving and one on the last night before Christmas vacation.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Ryan opened the side door of the building, stepping out. It was still light out. The sun wouldn’t set until sometime around 8:00. It was only a little until 6:00. They headed for the main building.

“Dinner around Halloween is cool. Mostly normal, but we, like, get to dress up and stuff and, uh, they do this thing where we can Trick-or-Treat at, like, the teacher’s houses on campus. It’s pretty sweet. You get good hauls and, like, we do whole floors of candy trading and shit. And, uh, Easter dinner is really good too. It’s dress up and stuff and, like, before dinner, we have church for, like, an hour, but the dinner and dessert are really good, so it’s totally worth it.”

Ryan realized that he was probably making himself sound like a pig to Brendon, talking only of the food they got at the school. He shut his mouth and they walked the rest of the way in silence. They went through the back entrance of the main building into the lobby area where all the students checked in that day. The banner was still up, but the table was now folded up and leaning against a wall, waiting for one of the cleaning people to take it away until it would, once again, be used. Ryan lead them towards the right, down a long hallway. They passed by offices, where administrative staff worked. He knew them all by name, Miss Lisa, Miss Rachel, Mr. Smith, Mr. Daniels, Mrs. Judd. They all knew him too. They knew everybody; it was their job. After that, they passed the nurses station. Ryan peaked in and saw Nurse Payne was manning the station. He was always amused by how ironic her name was, especially considering that she was the coolest nurse there; she was very laidback with the students and would talk with them about any of their problems. Ryan was fairly certain he would have gone crazy if she hadn’t been there. He made a mental note to swing by within the next few days and have a chat with her.

After the nurse’s station, they walked only a few more steps until they were in the dining hall. It was huge and buzzing with students getting food and meeting up with friends. Food was served buffet style with a wide selection of what they could eat. Ryan figured he could let Brendon explore the food on his own. He turned towards Brendon, saw the other boy taking in everything, but only looking slightly overwhelmed. 

“Just get whatever you want and then come find me. Me and my friends usually sit next to the windows on the left side, kind of towards the back. I’ll pull up a chair for you.”

And then Ryan left him, went to get his own food. He pushed through the lines and grabbed a plate, immediately heaping it with chicken, green beans, mac-and-cheese, and two dinner rolls. He headed towards the dessert counter and grabbed a smaller plate, piling it with lemon squares that he craved. He then went to find his table, planning on dropping his food off before going back in to get some sweet tea. He had a lot of complaints about his school, but he would always be grateful for their sweet tea.

It was easy to spot Jon and Spencer, sitting at the table they usually sat at. He strolled over and sat his plates down.

“Brendon’s gonna sit with us, okay? Don’t be jackasses.”

Jon gave a fake gasp.

“Ross!” he exclaimed, hand over his heart. “I would never act like a complete dick in front of your new roommate. Who do you take me for?”

Ryan rolled his eyes as Spencer threw back his head and laughed, Jon joining him. Ryan walked back towards the food to get his glass of sweet tea. As he was pouring it from a pitcher where all the drinks were, being carefully watched by one of the kitchen ladies, he looked around and spotted Brendon still getting his food. At least he wasn’t still standing at the entrance of the dining hall. Ryan figured he would be okay. 

He pushed his way through the crowd, back to his own table. He listened to the dull roar of the voices in the dining room with happy familiarity. He knew that most kids hated school, but for him, and most of the boys here, school was great. He got to hang out with his friends all the time, no bullies were skulking around, and he actually felt challenged in his classes. Contrary to popular belief, Ryan did like being so far from home. Sure he was worried about his dad, but their weekly phone calls would make sure he kept tabs on him. Besides his dad, he didn’t like his hometown. Vegas sucked when you were under twenty-one; then it was just desert. 

So yeah, Ryan loved going to school and didn’t like thinking about how, in two years, it would be over. Sometimes he wished he could stay forever. 

He got to his table and put his drink down, Jon and Spencer digging into their food, eating like pigs. Ryan joined them in their piggish behavior, shoveling in a mix of mac-and-cheese and green beans, savoring the buttery, cheesy, fatty goodness. 

“Did you guys see Barnard?” Jon questioned, washing down his food with a glass of lemonade. Both Ryan and Spencer scan the dining hall, trying to see if they could see said sophomore. Finally, Ryan did spot a kid whom he assumed must be Barnard.

“What the fuck? How do you grow a fucking foot in three months?”

And really, what the fuck. That energetic, skinny kid from last year had seemingly shot up at least eight inches over the summer.

“Not to mention bulked up.” Spencer said, turning back to the table and taking a bite out of his cornbread. 

Ryan nodded in agreement. The kid had drastically changed over the summer; he looked ready to join the football team now. 

“Hey, if he joins the team, maybe we’ll actually win championships this year. I’m tired of losing to those Woodfairy shits.”

Jon, of course, was talking about their rival, Woodberry Academy, another college preparatory school, known for their distinct lack of scholarship kids and their overabundance of alumni with connections to big business and government officials. They also had a pretty good football team and Jon, being on their own football team, took the schools rivalry a little more personal than Ryan or Spencer. 

At that moment, Ryan looked up and spotted Brendon, plate and glass in hand, looking around the room, unsure of where he was to go. Ryan stood up and waved his hand, hoping to catch Brendon’s attention. It only took a second before Brendon saw him and started making his way over. Ryan sat down, giving the evil eye to Jon and Spencer.

“Seriously guys, don’t be assholes. He’s new, go easy on him.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but Spencer nodded and smiled at Brendon when he reached the table. Brendon set his plate and glass down next to Ryan. He gingerly sat down, looking at the table rather than making eye contact. Ryan figured it was his job to introduce him. 

“Brendon, this is Jon Walker and Spencer Smith, Jon and Spencer, this is Brendon Urie, my new roomie.”

Jon said, “What’s up?” and Spencer just said “Hey”. Brendon looked up, a corner of his mouth quirked up into what could be classified as an almost smile, though Ryan wasn’t sure if it was genuine or not. 

“Uh, hey.” Brendon said, unsure of what else to do. He played with his fork, mixing his food together. Ryan just sat there, not sure how else to break the awkward silence.

“So…Brendon, where do you come from?”

Thank God for Jon Walker. If anyone could get Brendon to partake in a conversation, it would be Jon. It started of slow, just asking where he was from, what his home was like. Brendon was from St. George, Utah. 

“Yo, that’s, like, Mormon central.”

Brendon nodded, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes. 

“Yeah, well, I’m Mormon.”

There’s a beat of silence and Ryan doesn’t know what to say. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a Mormon it’s just…well he’s never met a Mormon before.

“That’s cool.” Thank God for Spencer Smith. “My family’s Episcopalian. And Ryan’s an atheist.”

Ryan snorted and smiled taking a bite of his lemon square. 

“Damn Spencer, no need to out me.”

“Yeah” Spencer nods. “Jon is the only real Catholic here.”

Jon chuckles. “Yep, you’re all going to Hell except me. I’ll get to chill in purgatory.”

“I don’t think you exactly ‘chill’ in purgatory,” Brendon says with a grin, taking a bite of his green beans. 

All of them laugh at that. 

They learn Brendon is a vegetarian, when Jon questions the lack of chicken or ham on his plate. “You know, just nothing with a face.” Brendon said, sipping his sweet tea. The boys nod along in understanding, but then dig into their own heaps of chicken and ham. 

They talk about movies and books and Spencer comments about how Ryan is a book snob, only reading books “where people are, like, drug addicts, or they suffer and probably die. It’s seriously depressing, don’t let him talk you into reading anything.” Ryan rolled his eyes but laughed along. He was proud of his self-proclaimed nihilism. 

It didn’t take much longer for Brendon to begin talking a mile a minute. Honestly, Ryan was surprised with the amount of energy he saw now in comparison to what he saw in their room earlier that afternoon. It appeared that, once the shell around Brendon was cracked, he was unafraid to unleash his full self on the unsuspecting populace. Ryan was glad that Brendon felt so comfortable. And really, Brendon could talk about anything. Movies (especially Disney movies), T.V. shows (Ryan is now prepared to hear about every detail of M.A.S.H. ever), but especially music. Ryan had been convinced that Mormons were kind of crazy and lacked any personality except a personality devoted to God, but now he was starting to think otherwise, especially when Brendon could go on and on about so many musicians, not to mention all of the instruments he was able to play. Ryan had felt pretty proud about his guitar skills, but something in his stomach made him not want to mention it. He was stuck half-way between awe and jealousy. He then realized what dick he was being and pushed the jealousy down. The awkward kid he had met in his room wasn’t at the dinner table, and that was enough for Ryan. 

Honestly, Ryan was pretty impressed by Brendon’s proclaimed skills. Not only could he play the guitar, but the drums, the piano, and he “dabbles” a little in violin and the cello, more at his parents’ insistence than his own. Ryan comments that they should jam sometimes, and the way Brendon’s face lit up, Ryan knew he would make it. No more would he have to contend with that awkwardly shy boy, which was an immense relief to Ryan. 

Dinner time was coming to a close, though the boys barely noticed. They were too busy busting a gut over Brendon’s Inigo Montoya impression. Brendon had jumped up and stood on his chair, holding out a butter knife towards Jon, who was just losing it. 

“Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!”

A teacher from another table barked at Brendon to get off the chair. Brendon slipped down, back into his chair easily and then leaned over, laughing harder than anyone. Even Ryan had tears forming from laughing so hard. Jon reached over and wrapped his arm around Brendon’s shoulder, tugging him in. 

“God, I love this kid. We’re _so_ keeping you.”

It’s when they start getting ready to head back to the dorms when Ryan saw senior student William Becket strutting (literally strutting) over with Adam Siska, a junior William had picked his sophomore year and hadn’t let go of yet. Ryan figured they were in it as long haul (high school) friends. William was more Jon’s friend than his or Spencer’s, as they were in the same class and shared a lot of classes together. However, William was friendly with all of them, had “adopted” them as his “primary vagrants”, his words, not theirs. While William liked hanging around Jon and his friends the most, he quite easily slipped into any of the many social and friend groups around the school. He was just that type of guy, who could strike up an in-depth conversation with anyone and have an opinion about everything. 

Ryan was usually quiet around him. William was nice, but Ryan never felt pressed to have a conversation with him. That didn’t mean William never tried hard to have a conversation with Ryan. 

“’Sup, losers.” William said as he stopped by their table. He was wearing tight dress pants and a white dress shirt, tucked in, with the first two buttons unbuttoned. He leaned on Jon’s chair, with something halfway between a grin and a smirk adorning his face. Adam was next to him, a normal grin on his face as he brushed his curly, blond hair out of his eyes. 

“Hey guys.”

Ryan liked Adam more than William. Adam was normal and chill, a lot like Jon. He was smart too, especially in math and science. He knew Adam was taking Honors pre-calculus and AP physics this year. 

William scanned over the table, landing a piercing gaze on Brendon, who seemed to have started reassembling his shell with the arrival of William. 

“And who’s this fresh, young thing?” William questioned, walking around the table until he got to Ryan and Brendon’s chairs. He situated himself between them, skinny arms along the backs of both chairs. Ryan rolled his eyes, used to Williams antics. 

“William, this is Brendon Urie. Brendon, this is William Beckett. Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.” 

“Much.” William tacked on to the end of Ryan’s introduction.

Ryan sighed and leaned forward, grabbing his glass and drinking some watered down sweet tea. William was usually dramatic, but Ryan believed he kicked it up a notch for new people.

Brendon stuttered out a “Nice to meet you” and William hummed before leaning back and letting go of their chairs, walking back around the table towards Jon. He leaned against Jon, sharp hip against Jon’s arm. Jon didn’t care, and leaned into William. 

“So, where’s Wilson?” William questioned, eyes staring down Brendon and Ryan.

“Didn’t come back this year.” Spencer spoke up, giving William a friendly, but also challenging look. William smiled back.

“Oh well. Anyways, I’m obviously ecstatic about seeing the rest of you again, and especially about meeting Brendon.” He was quiet for a beat before continuing. “We can mourn the loss of Brent later. Instead, tomorrow night, let’s celebrate the beginning of Welcome Week in our own, special way. I have a little surprise that I believe everyone can find some amusement with. I guarantee it’s something that none of you have seen before. So, after our little ice cream social tomorrow, Ross, your room for our own little meeting?” William had a raised, expectant eyebrow. Ryan glanced at Brendon and all Brendon did was shrug. Ryan looked back at William, only the slightest bit of challenge gleaming in the corner of his eyes. “Sure. Why not.”

“Excellent.” William clapped his hands together, mouth now turned into a grin. Ryan was very curious about what William wanted to show them.

William ran his fingers over Jon’s fresh buzz cut, a gleam of disappointment in his eyes at the fact that Jon had cut his hair.

“Well, see you all tomorrow.” 

William turned and sauntered off, Adam behind him, waving at everybody before turning and catching up with William. Ryan chuckled, once again reminded of the antics sure to come with a year full of William Beckett. Brendon looked slightly concerned, but Ryan gave him a reassuring smile. They cleaned up their table and brought their dirty dishes to the conveyor belt at the far end of the dining room, depositing forks, spoons, and knives into a bin of soapy water before piling their plates and cups onto the conveyor belt that took their dishes into the back of the kitchen, where they would be promptly washed for tomorrows use. 

There were only pockets of people left in the dining room, most having gone back to their rooms, which was where all four boys were headed. Ryan was beat, and he knew the others probably were too. Even Brendon had a shine of sleepiness, dark eyelashes beginning to fall over dark eyes. They walked past the nurse’s station and offices, heading towards the back exit. Ryan’s digital watch read 5:30, Nevada time, which meant it was 8:30 Georgia time. Ryan was going to have to change the time on his watch when he got back to his room. It was cloudy out and the only lights they could see were from the surrounding buildings, so it was dark too. Still, it was easy to make it back to their dorm, less than two dozen meters away. After getting inside, they trudged up the narrow staircase, saying goodbye to Jon on the landing to the second floor. Then it was down the hall they went. Ryan and Brendon stopped by Spencer’s door, saying goodnight. Ryan and Spencer clapped hands, saying goodnight. Spencer smiled at Brendon and told him goodnight as well, saying he would see them both tomorrow. 

Ryan and Brendon made their way back to their room. Brendon held the door open, so Ryan could use the hall light while he turned on the lamp on the little table between the beds. Looking at the boxes under his bed, Ryan decided to finish unpacking tomorrow. Tonight, he was only prepared to change, brush his teeth, and then read a little in bed before going to sleep. He picked his book-bag off the floor and unzipped the middle front pocket, reaching in and pulling out his toothbrush and toothpaste. He turned around to find Brendon standing by his own bed, looking not quite sure what to do. Ryan decided to help him out. 

“I’m gonna go change and brush my teeth. Our bathroom is only a few doors down, on the right as you’re going down. It’s a big red door with a handle instead of a doorknob. You can’t miss it. Heck, in a few days, it’s gonna start smelling bad, and then you really won’t be able to miss it.”

Brendon laughed at that, not even chuckled, but laughed. He was back at ease. Ryan toed off his shoes and socks before heading out the door and down the hall. He would take a shower tomorrow morning, but for now, teeth and then bed. 

The bathroom was basic, six toilet stalls, three on one wall and three on the other and three showers, all lining the wall opposite the door. There were six sinks on an island in the middle, three on each side, partially dividing the bathroom. It was fine besides the fact that, through the mirror, you caught the reflection of a stall. It was a good-sized room, but imagine thirty boys, half their class, all trying to squeeze in, use the bathroom, brush their teeth, and half of them trying to get a shower. It could become chaotic. Every floor of the dorm buildings had two bathrooms on each floor to accommodate all the boys. In Ryan’s bathroom, four stalls and all the showers were occupied, along with three sinks. Ryan said hello to the boys at the sink, two of them on the cross-country team, same as he was. He left his toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink counter before slipping into a stall to take a piss and change into his night clothes. 

After relieving himself and changing into his sleep garments (red and green flannel pants and a white wife-beater), he went to the sink and washed his hand, taking one of the paper towels that had been piled into special dispensers on the counter and drying his hands, before throwing it away. He made small talk with one of his track mates, talking about the upcoming season, what training regimens, if any, they did that summer, and a little about classes starting next week. 

As Ryan spit his toothpaste into the sink and began rinsing his brush, he saw Brendon come in, a little hesitantly, holding some clothes in his arms and his toothbrush and toothpaste. Two of the boys glanced up and one gave a half-hearted wave. Brendon made a beeline to a sink and began getting ready to brush his teeth. Ryan told him he would see him back in their room. 

Ryan, depositing his toothbrush and toothpaste on his desk and his old clothes under the bed, crawled onto his bed, feeling suddenly exhausted from the day. He reached over from his bed to his desk, grabbing a dogeared book. He had grabbed Junkie by William Burroughs. It wasn’t a favorite of his, but he had read it once before. He figured it would be good to read it again. He was on page seven by the time Brendon had come back to the room dressed in honest to God pajamas. A pair of nice, blue pajamas; long roomy pair of pajama bottoms and a buttoned shirt with a little pocket on the front. They looked nice, made from probably breathable cotton. Ryan felt only just a little hickish in his own sleep clothes when compared to Brendon. Brendon didn’t say anything, depositing his day clothes in a dirty clothes sack under his bed, and his toothbrush and toothpaste on the bookshelf of his desk. He crouched to the ground, looking through his own backpack before standing back up and situating himself into his bed. He settled himself under the sheet, propping himself up on his pillows, also reading a book. It was The Bible. Ryan wasn’t exactly surprised, if just caught off guard. It made sense though. Brendon was Mormon, he probably would read The Bible before bed every night. Ryan settled into his bed and started reading his own book.

After reading for about twenty minutes, Ryan looked at his digital wristwatch and realized he hadn’t set it to Georgia time. Grumbling to himself, he set his book down and began messing with the buttons, trying to get the time forward to the correct time. It took about five minutes, but he was successful. It was closing in on 9:30 and Ryan realized he was plenty tired. He turned towards Brendon, seemingly captivated by whichever story he was reading. It was near the beginning. Maybe Exodus. 

“Hey, Brendon, could I turn the light off? I’m kind of tired.”

Brendon was startled out of his reading and whipped his head around towards Ryan. It looked like he was processing Ryan’s request before he quickly nodded his head, shutting the book.

“Yeah, of course.”

Ryan smiled and crawled towards his desk at the end of his bed, placing his book down. Brendon seemed to take on the same idea, as Ryan heard him shuffling towards his own desk, while Ryan was shuffling back into his own bed. Ryan reached over to the little table between their beds, holding their lamp. Ryan twisted the switch and the room was plunged into darkness. He settled into bed and heard Brendon settling into his own. Along with the darkness came immense sleepiness. Ryan hadn’t realized how much he had worn himself out. It was five minutes until he had fallen asleep. The same couldn’t be said for Brendon.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first fic I have published in...years. Let's just say the last time I did it, it was on fanfiction.net. This whole fic is planned, start to finish, I know what is going to happen. I am not going to abandon this fic. That said, I do not have a steady schedule for this. The next chapter may come out next week or next month, we'll just have to see. 
> 
> This is partially based on my own experience of going to a boarding school in the south during high school. Granted it was an all-girls boarding school, but eh...its probably partially the same for boys. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy! Review and give kudos if you feel compelled to do so!


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